Since we’re officially in peak cuffing season, I decided to do a little deep dive into the superstitions we swear by during the dreaded talking stage.
You know—the rituals, habits, and unspoken rules we lean on to protect our hearts, avoid disaster, or survive the chaos of texting someone new.
Here’s a roundup of patterns, hacks, and girl logic, straight from the girls in our GCU chapter. Consider it your talking stage survival guide.
I’m saying nothing. Literally nothing.
When I’m interested in someone new, admitting he exists is the only information I’m willing to release to the group chat. That’s it. That’s the entire press release. No follow-up questions are allowed, and I will not be making any other comments at this time.
I am an annoyingly firm believer in this superstition. I will not say a single thing about a man until it becomes clear to me that he’s going to stick around for longer than a month, and even then, it’s pushing it. Honestly, I don’t remember when this habit started, but it’s been active for years, like a reflex. Anytime I start getting interested in a guy, all I say is, “Someone is showing potential,” and immediately lock the rest of the information behind a sealed door.
He gets a nickname, and that’s all. A codename. A placeholder only I understand, like “Blue Hoodie,” “Montana,” or simply “Tall.” He does not get his government name until he has demonstrated consistency, stability, and at least three solid green flags in a row. Speaking his real name out loud too soon feels like I’m playing emotional Bloody Mary, and I refuse to give in to that game.
As one girl said, and honestly, she wasn’t wrong, “I make up a fake name for them. Whether it’s a variation of their actual name or like a code name.”
Because here’s the thing: it’s not that I don’t want to say anything; it’s just that when I do, the universe steps in and causes an immediate effect. One tiny slip up (read: mention) and suddenly he’s texting me like his phone only works during solar eclipses.
So yes, silence is my strategy. My superstition. Until he survives the probation period, my lips are sealed and the plot remains confidential.
As one girl in my chapter put it, “I don’t tell anyone about them until we go on a date, then at that point I will tell my friends about them.”
Pending: contact name
I feel like this is kinda self self-explanatory, but just to be clear: I am the girl men have nightmares about. I do not save number lightly. I do not assign cute emojis. I do not even give proper capitalization a second thought. Until a man proves he can actually show up consistently, he lives in my phone as an unsaved number. Nameless, unverified, and completely replaceable. Honestly, he should be even grateful if I respond.
This isn’t just caution, it’s a survival strategy. I’ve heard too many stories about “fun and promising” guys that vanish the second they make it into the contact book. So, from what I’ve learned, until they act correctly, they will only get a nickname or a placeholder; that’s it. Anything beyond that? Too soon. Too risky. And it gives too much power to the universe, which seems ready to pull the rug from anyone at a moment’s notice.
I also tend to notice a man’s flaws very early on—or, honestly, they just give me an ick. And that, of course, feeds directly into my self-preservation method of ignoring any unsaved number. The icks can be literally anything I don’t vibe with. One time, it was as simple as him saying my music taste sucked. And yes, I took it personally. As I probably should have. But that’s the thing, small comments like that are red flags in disguise. If he can’t survive the bare minimum of respecting my playlist, why would he survive the bigger stuff?
Sometimes it’s ridiculous: a weird laugh, an overuse of “literally,” or just texting too fast. Other times, it’s totally valid: a comment that makes me question if we exist in the same universe. Either way, my unsaved-number rule has saved me from a lot of headaches. Ignoring the number isn’t mean, it’s a defense mechanism. Call it superstition, call it self-preservation, call it girl logic… I call it winning at the talking stage.
reading twice is a curse
Okay, this one might be more specific to my superstitions, and that’s fine. I try my hardest not to re-read messages or dig too deep into something that might be a one-off. Basically, I don’t feed into the delusion, which is one of my favorite pastimes.
The second I start re-reading texts, I immediately begin creating a persona, imagining I know this man… when in reality, he’s still a stranger I barely know.
When I start talking to someone new, I treat the conversation at surface level. There’s nothing more to dive into than the words themselves. No hidden meanings. No secret agenda. Just words. And if any rom-com has taught me, actions are always better than words.
Once I start thinking of them as more than that, the fantasy kicks in, and suddenly I’m building a character that might not even exist.
Honestly, I think it’s my inner writer coming out, analyzing a “new character” for future stories. Whatever the reason, I refuse to craft an image of him before actually getting to know him as a real person. It’s texting with boundaries, girlies. And yes, it’s as much a self-preservation tactic as it is a superstition.
final points
If things don’t go your way? That’s totally fine. Cancel that Etsy witch appointment, stop doom-scrolling love spell TikToks, and take a deep breath.
Remember to laugh at the chaos, to always trust your gut, and keep your peace. (I’m rooting for you!)